Saviour
by Baker-Street-Potter-Head
Summary: Molly Hooper hates guests, with good reason. Can she escape? Sherlolly, Rated T to be safe x


**_Hello, Sherlolly lovers. Well, this is my very first Fanfiction of anything so I'm…a little worried about this. The idea wouldn't leave me alone so I thought I'd upload and let you lovely people decide my fate *nervous laughter*. Anyway, without further ado I present my first (and hopefully not my last) Fanfiction. Enjoy!_**

**_Of course, I do not own Sherlock…that honour belongs to Moffatt, Gatiss (BBC) and Sir Conan Doyle._**

Molly Hooper didn't like guests. She didn't like guests at all and it just so happened that she had particularly unwanted company this evening. As she walked cautiously home after her shift, she thought about the events of this day. Her brother, Joey Hooper, was staying for the weekend – having been kicked out of his house by his wife. Molly sighed as she remembered the conversation on the telephone earlier that evening, and how vague her brother had been about why she had kicked him out.

Pulling her coat tighter around her as the wind picked up, she rounded the corner of her street and was plunged into darkness, with the exception of one or two streetlights. Her steps quickened as she became more wary of her situation.

"You know, it's rather dangerous for a young lady to be out alone at this hour. You never know what may happen…," a voice sounded in the alley next to Molly, making her jump.

She spun around wildly to find the highly amused face of one Sherlock Holmes stepping out of the shadows. His wavy hair was slightly out of place due to the wind. She scowled at him and lightly punched him on the arm.

"Sherlock, you frightened me. What the hell were you trying to achieve?" She shrieked, hands on her hips. Sherlock merely shrugged.

"I wanted to see if it was possible to actually scare someone into a state of near death," came his sarcastic reply, in that deep, sensual voice of his. Damn that voice. They hardly noticed that they were now walking towards Molly's flat.

"Very funny. Sherlock, I'm tired and Joey will probably want me to make him dinner…" she trailed off as she noticed his frown.

"Joey?" he asked, slightly curious and a little bit annoyed. Molly sighed.

"My brother. His…er…car broke down and I offered him the sofa until we can phone a mechanic in the morning," she said, avoiding his gaze. Now it was Sherlock's turn to sigh.

"Molly, I don't know why you even attempt to lie. But, if you insist, I shall tell you anyway," he ignored the fact that Molly was now holding her breath, afraid of what he knows. "Joey Hooper. Yes, he's been a very busy man this past year. In and out of prison all the time, I believe. Lestrade brought him to my attention last week…when his wife reported him for assault. The charges were dropped, however, when he agreed to leave…" he stopped the deduction abruptly when he noticed Molly's hands, just visible under her coat.

Her wrists were covered in angry purple bruises, and she had small cuts on her hands. Sherlock looked at Molly, who was staring straight ahead. They were now outside Molly's building.

"I should…," Molly whispered, not wanting to leave the consulting detective to return to her violent brother.

"Molly, if he's hurting you, you need to…," he was cut off by a furious look from Molly.

"What? What do you suggest I do, Sherlock? Send him home to his wife? Report my own brother to the police? No, at least when he's with me…he can't hurt anyone else. Just…just go home, Sherlock. I'll…it'll be fine, it always is…in the end," Sherlock was now shaking his head but Molly turned and walked into her building.

She looked round and saw a desperate pleading look on Sherlock's face. "I'll see you tomorrow." She opened the main doors and descended the stairs to her flat, tears threatening to pour out. She prayed that Joey was in one of his rare good moods.

Outside, Sherlock was pacing. Joey wasn't a stupid man. He knew how to leave marks and where to hit. Molly always long sleeves anyway, so the bruises would have gone unnoticed. He looked up, remembering the small black eye Molly had sustained by 'tripping over Toby'. He shook his head to remove the images forming in his mind. He gazed over at her window and noticed the lights were on. Joey was up then. Sherlock leaned on the railings behind him, waiting. He wasn't about to go anywhere, no matter what Molly had said.

Molly turned the key and stepped over the threshold, jumping when she noticed Joey sat on the sofa. He was scowling at the switched off TV set, the phone in his hand. He was in an atrocious mood, it seemed. Toby was nowhere to be seen. He had probably taken refuge in her room at the end of the hall. Molly took a subtle deep breath as she approached him.

"Hey, Joey. I thought you'd be asleep," she said, casually, bustling into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He didn't answer at first and Molly hoped she'd be able to take her tea into her bedroom and not see him until the morning. This was not to be the case.

"Where have you been?" It was a deathly quiet whisper that sent shivers down Molly's spine. She gulped as she turned to see Joey stood menacingly at the door to the kitchen. Molly thought it best to not sarcastically state the obvious.

"Oh, they needed someone to stay on and help with a police investigation. I thought the extra money would come in handy," she replied. In truth, Sherlock had asked her to stay and she wanted to be away from Joey as long as possible. Molly hoped that this way, he would at least be falling asleep by the time she got in. It was 3:00am for God's sake.

"They wanted you to stay… or _him_. You know, that tall guy that always hangs around," Joey asked, angrier than before. Molly noticed the way in which he said 'him'. Joey and Sherlock had past…dealings and don't get on in the slightest. She decided to change the subject quickly.

"Who was on the phone? Anyone for me?" She asked, matter of factly and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. Joey's eyes flashed dangerously but he remained where he was.

"Funny you should say that. Why would it be for _you_?" He spat, looking red in the face from his anger. Molly shrugged, deciding not to point out it was her home and that occasionally people rang her.

She didn't know how she plucked up the courage to walk past him and back into the living room, but this is now where she stood, searching desperately for something to do. Joey watched her from the kitchen doorway, his eyes dark in aggression.

"How was your day?" It was an innocent enough question. An innocent question that tipped her fragile brother's temper over the edge. He smiled maliciously.

"My day, Mols?" he was stepping closer, slowly. "Well, I was followed to the shops by that 'detective' of yours," another step closer causing Molly to back away also, "I spoke to Grace and she told me it's over and not to call her anymore," another step. Molly's back hit the wall behind her, fear now gripping her," and what else? Oh, yes to top it all off," he was now directly in front of her, fuming mad and clenching his jaw, "Chelsea lost 2-1 today. So Molly, my day was pretty damn fantastic and it was all _your_ fault…"

Before she could squeak a reply, her brother's rough hands were at her throat. They squeezed causing her to choke a little. When he didn't stop, she began to struggle, pushing at him and kicking. After an eternity, he finally let go. Molly fell at his feet, coughing, spluttering and wheezing. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. Wincing through the pain and determined not to scream, she looked around for something heavy to grab but there was nothing. She was, terrifyingly, completely at his mercy. He smiled down at her as his grip on her wrists tightened. She took her opportunity. She kicked out, hard and catching him in the crotch. He gasped sharply and released her wrists. Molly gathered her senses and ran for the door to her flat, heart beating faster than ever and hands shaking. She fumbled with the door handle but it was no use. Joey had caught his breath and grabbed her hair again, yanking her back causing her yell in pain. He threw his hand over her mouth.

"Quiet now, or do I have to use this?" he said, his voice raspy. He pulled out a knife and delighted in how his sister's eyes widened. "Nice, isn't she? 6 inches of sharp steel, Molly. Nicked it from work. This baby has seen more blood and gore than the entire British Army…and not all of it belongs to our enemies," he said, staring at the large weapon in his hand while pinning his shaking sister to the wall with the other.

Silent tears began to fall down her cheeks. Her brother, the nice boy she had grown up with, played her favourite game 'Doctors and Detectives' with and shared stories with, was a liar, wife-beater, abuser and now a murderer. How could this happen? Was she being punished for something? Why didn't I just stay with Sherlock? She shook her head. Luckily, Joey was still too engrossed in his knife to notice. Molly was quite glad she had let Sherlock go home. She needed to protect everyone, even Sherlock, from Joey. Joey, now apparently back on Earth, turned to Molly, his eyes dark with pure hatred.

"Do you know what you did? Do you know why this is all your fault?" Molly frantically shook her head, but Joey took no notice and shoved her hard into the wall. Molly's head collided with the hard surface and now she had a throbbing pain at the back of her skull. "You turned Grace against me. My wife…isn't talking to me…," he was shaking in uncontrollable anger and he pressed the knife into Molly's neck. "You're going to…_pay _for what you have done to me…you have destroyed my life…"

Everything seemed to go in slow motion; Joey pressed harder on her mouth, effectively pinning her against the wall tight, he breathed deeply as he raised the knife above his head, Molly squeezed her eyes shut, her thoughts on Sherlock and apologising mentally to him. Suddenly, the door to Molly's flat flew open with a loud crash. Sherlock entered accompanied by an extremely sleepy John Watson. For a split second, everybody froze; Molly gasped Sherlock's name into her brother's hand, Joey's arm wavered above his head, John rubbed his eyes and Sherlock was shaking furiously. Molly's terrified brown eyes met with Sherlock's calm yet furious blue ones. With a growl, Joey threw Molly aside and onto the floor. He ran for the front door and attempted to push past the others. Sherlock jumped in front of the door.

"Going somewhere?" he hissed.

Quick as a flash, Joey swung his fist and it connected with Sherlock's face. Joey shoved him aside and reached the door. Waking up a little, John lunged towards Joey, knocking them both over. Joey roared in anger and kicked John away from him, crawling towards the door. Swearing furiously, Sherlock shook himself off and, bleeding quite substantially, ran to his friend's aid. There were a few more moments of clumsy fist fighting, resulting in a black eye for John and a broken finger for Joey. Finally, Joey wrenched himself from Sherlock's grip and pulled the door open. He was gone before John could even peel himself off the wall he had just been shoved into.

"Damn it," John panted, tentatively touching his eye and wincing. He pulled his phone out and dialled a number. "Lestrade? It's John. We're going to need your help…"

As John explained the details to Lestrade, Sherlock hastily wiped his nose and mouth and rushed to Molly's side. She hadn't moved from the floor, afraid it wasn't over. She turned when he reached her and let him pull her up. She looked up and met his eyes. After a moment, Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by John.

"Lestrade's on his way. He was a nasty piece of work…I could hardly believe it when Sherlock called me. I mean...," he cut off when he realised he was talking more to himself than anyone else. He glanced over a Sherlock and Molly and noticed the slightly awkward air of people who still had things they needed to say. "Um…well, I'll-I'll just…um…I'll see you back at the flat then, Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't reply and John didn't fancy sticking around. He hastily left the flat and desperately craved an ice pack more than his bed right now. There was a few more moments of deafening silence before Sherlock broke it.

"Are you O.K.?" Molly nodded giving a weak smile.

"I'm fine. There's nothing to get upset about anymore. I'm just used to it…," she couldn't believe she was beginning to defend him. As she looked at him, the tough façade disappeared. She broke down in his arms. Sherlock held her tightly as she cried into his coat.

"You shouldn't have to be. There is no excuse for his behaviour, Molly. It's over now, I promise. He will not hurt you anymore. I won't allow him to, I'm just sorry I was late…," he was slightly unaware he had been patting her head reassuringly. They stood for a while, Molly's sobs subsiding into gentle sniffing. She pulled back and looked at Sherlock through red, puffy eyes. She smiled.

"Thank you, Sherlock. For saving me, being here and not leaving me. Thank you for everything," she wanted to say everything to him, anything. But she couldn't. She just held him.

"I meant it," his voice was unusually soft. She looked at him confused. "You are coming to 221B tonight. As long as it takes…," he was cut off by Molly throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you. I couldn't face being alone…I just…really, need you right now…" she pulled back a little, her hands comfortable on his shoulders. When had his settled on her waist?

She felt overwhelmed by his support, caring and protectiveness. She couldn't resist. She leant upwards and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Sherlock responded just as softly and they both felt that little spark, the spark of that special something. After what seemed like an eternity, they reluctantly broke apart, still holding each other tightly, neither wanting to let go. He was always going to be there for her.

Always.

**_Ok…I'm pretty happy with that. I proof read about 5 times and it's not too bad I guess. Anyway, it's not up to me to decide. That's where you lovely guys come in. Please review and let me know what you thought, but be gentle! My already fragile self-esteem had a panic attack when I pressed upload. Hopefully I'll have another story soon…I have quite a few one-shots I'm working on so here's hoping. Thank you so much for giving me a chance. See you soon, BsPh xx_**


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